


What Dreams May Come

by peppermintquartz



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Will doesn't know how to feel, sort of fluffy?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 11:13:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8977351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peppermintquartz/pseuds/peppermintquartz
Summary: It was Thanksgiving.Will had found himself looking forward to the sessions with Hannibal, to the point where he felt out of sorts when he did not have one because of the holiday. The doctor did not celebrate, but most of his patients did, so it was not practical to open the office for just one patient who might be called away to a crime scene any time. Will wished he could be selfish and insist on a session regardless. Instead, he resigned himself to an evening of mac and cheese, broiled chicken, green beans, with Frank Sinatra playing on his laptop.





	

It was Thanksgiving.

Will had found himself looking forward to the sessions with Hannibal, to the point where he felt out of sorts when he did not have one because of the holiday. The doctor did not celebrate, but most of his patients did, so it was not practical to open the office for just one patient who might be called away to a crime scene any time. Will wished he could be selfish and insist on a session regardless. Instead, he resigned himself to an evening of mac and cheese, broiled chicken, green beans, with Frank Sinatra playing on his laptop.

It was therefore a pleasant surprise when he saw a familiar Bentley cruise up to his front yard at four in the afternoon. The dogs poured out, tails wagging slowly, and when Hannibal unfolded from the car the boldest of the pack yipped happily and dared to put his nose right into Hannibal's gloved hand, front paws up on his trousers.

“Buster, down.” Will scolded though a smile tugged on the corners of his lips. He could not have stopped the smile on his face for anything, however, and if he had a tail he'd be wagging it too. “Hello. I wasn't expecting you.”

“I'd hoped to surprise you.” Hannibal waited until Will had corralled all the dogs before he opened up the boot to retrieve three large bags. “I was feeling quite lonesome at home and decided to impose on your hospitality.”

By now Will knew Hannibal well enough to understand that the doctor meant that he knew Will would be alone. Instead of embarrassing Will by inviting him over to Baltimore for a dinner at Hannibal's posh table, he risked being rejected by driving over an hour to Wolf Trap.

Of course, now that he was here, Will would not turn him away. He walked over and helped Hannibal carry the bags into the house. One of them was quite heavy. “Tell me you didn't bring a turkey over. I'm not sure the oven works.”

“Ham, actually, and it's already cooked. I did bring ingredients for glühwein.”

“What's glühwein?”

“A mulled wine. I first had some in a Christmas market in Berlin, just a year after the wall fell, and I've never quite managed to recapture the taste of it. Hopefully this year I will be lucky.”

Will had to smile again. It was going to become a habit if he weren't careful. “A little early for mulled wine, isn't it?”

“Indulge me, Will.” Hannibal's eyes crinkled with teasing amusement.

*****

The mulled wine warmed up the house in a way that reminded Will of a family he had never had. Hannibal's cooking was excellent, as always, and surprisingly homey: apple-baked ham, Brussels sprouts gratin and a pumpkin cheesecake. Will stir-fried some green beans, his paltry addition to the small feast. Hannibal praised it nevertheless. Despite his discomfort with the compliment, Will took the words at face value and tucked them into his heart.

They shared the meal at Will's scuffed up dining table, and Hannibal insisted on lighting candles (he had actually brought candles) because “the fluorescent lights will dull our appetite”.

Will had chuckled. “Dinner by candlelight. I'd say you're trying too hard to be romantic, doctor.”

Hannibal had only smiled and sliced the ham. He looked beautiful in the flickering light, alive and glowing golden.

*****

By the time they were done with dinner, Will had unwound enough to be sharing funny stories about his dogs while they took a stroll out in the fields. They were lame anecdotes, but Hannibal was actually chuckling along. The glühwein was waiting back in the house but Will was loath to return.

“Here... here's where I'd come on nights when sleeping is impossible.” Will took a deep breath. He stopped and swallowed. He hadn't meant to say that. It was the dinner and companionship and the goddamn candlelight earlier.

It was the intimacy from hours and hours of conversations in the office, just the two of them. The openness that Will allowed himself to show Hannibal and no one else, that he let his walls down for this one person in his life.

For a second he imagined them in the office again. The chairs nearby as Will and Hannibal paced around the room, circling, prowling, never quite touching but always feeling the pull to be closer.

“When your sleep is plagued by shadows, you take refuge in the darkness of night,” the older man remarked, his voice quiet as a caress.

“It's much darker in my dreams.” Will closed his eyes. “So I'd, um, turn on all the lights and just... walk out here. Wait, and turn around, and on foggy nights...”

Hannibal finished the statement. “...you see a ship out at sea, and you know you're safe.”

Will wished he dared to reach across and hold Hannibal's hand in that moment. Perhaps he would have, if the dogs had not barked at something unseen in the skies overhead.

*****

The glühwein was delicious. Hannibal insisted that it wasn't right yet, though it was getting closer to what he remembered.

“May you perfect the recipe by Christmas,” said Will in an attempt to lighten the mood.

The doctor had raised his mug. It was a Lady and the Tramp mug, from one of Will's Secret Santas over the years. “I will share my festive attempt with you.”

*****

That night marked the start of the dreams. They began differently but ended the same.

They walked in the field, and the skies would turn from dove gray to deep black, with stars the red of garnets and blood dripping overhead. Will would reach out to hold Hannibal's hand. And then, the moment they touched, they would be in Hannibal's office. Will would inexplicably lead Hannibal to the couch. His mind could recreate the office down to the texture of the fabric, the way sounds echoed in the space...

And then Will would wake up, hard and aching.

The first time he had taken a cold shower. The second, the third... he had made himself coffee and graded papers till morning.

The fourth time, he gave up fighting and touched himself, thinking of Hannibal touching him. Of confident surgeon's hands grasping his erection, stroking him firmly and steadily. Of Hannibal's breath against his ear, of himself naked just for the doctor to savor. Of a whisper quiet as a lover's caress, of warmth, of sweet intoxication.

Feeling guilty about using Hannibal in this way even in his mind, he resolutely ignored his dreams and his body's demands the next few nights. He drank whiskey before he slept, hoping the alcohol would numb his senses. It didn't work very well, but he didn't indulge again.

The following Thursday he left Quantico early and got to Hannibal's office early. So early, in fact, that he found himself in a McDonald's drinking crap coffee to pass the hour. His cock twitched in anticipation, apparently having confused dreams with reality.

_Twenty minutes to go._

He took a deep breath and wished his arousal would fade. Yet just the week before he had been dining with Hannibal, admiring that chiseled face in candlelight. He had been captivated by the little hint of a smile, the creases around the older man's eyes whenever he was truly amused. That hint of teeth, the flick of his eyelashes...

His cock twitched again.

“For crying out loud,” Will muttered to himself. At least there weren't many people there at the McDonald's. He escaped to the restroom and shuddered out a breath after he'd latched the door. He got himself off quickly and efficiently, not that it took much effort to imagine Hannibal taking charge instead of his own hand. He could even hear the doctor's mild admonition that this was not the right place for it, that they should have gone elsewhere more private.

Will wiped himself clean and flushed the evidence down the toilet. Unfortunate there was no more soap in the dispenser so he just scrubbed his hands under the water. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes a little too bright, so he splashed some water over his face and then drove with the window open until he got to Hannibal's office.

He was there just on time.

“Will, please come in,” said Hannibal with his usual charm. There was a tiny flicker of a frown when Will walked past him, but the expression smoothed out.

They talked about death and living, of renewal and destruction.

On the way home Will thought about Hannibal's hands. He saw the veins, and thought them beautiful. He recalled the way Hannibal had clasped them just over his abdomen, and the way he had raised a finger to make a point. He thought about those hands on himself, and wondered if Hannibal could raise dark purple flowers under Will's skin.

*****

The dreams changed a little, but always ended in Hannibal's office. Sometimes Will would touch himself, while Hannibal watched. Sometimes Hannibal would be the one being watched.

On these occasions Will woke up angry and ashamed of his anger, because he knew he was angry at himself for _not knowing_. Not knowing how the older man appeared under those suits, not knowing if Hannibal preferred it gentle or rough or both, if there was any way of finding out. And then he'd be angry at himself for wanting to know, that he could not preserve just this one relationship as a friendship.

But his body _wanted_. It wanted so much.

It was as though years of denying himself human companionship had awakened a monster beneath his skin, craving to feel. Will spent his days refusing to acknowledge the yearning, but every time he was done with his classes and he packed up his belongings, he thought of Hannibal, how the other man had been there with him looking at crime scene photos and remain unfazed. How he had gone to save that man's life by plunging those beautiful hands into his body.

Hannibal in his element of blood and life and death. A rock amid the turbulence and chaos.

He recalled meeting Hannibal's eyes while the doctor was trying to repair the damage. How clear and focused the gaze. How confident.

Then Will wondered if Hannibal would keep his eyes open when he was vulnerable. That led to thoughts of Hannibal keeping his eyes open during sex, and that made Will angry at himself again.

*****

He didn't go to McDonald's the next session. His cock didn't care. The mere thought of seeing Hannibal again, in that office where Will's nightly sojourns took him made him hard. He dealt with it in the restroom of a gas station he stopped at. It was filthy, in the way of public restrooms, so he did not linger, and he dared not use the bar of soap which looked black. Instead he got himself some wet wipes and a Snickers from the store, and cleaned his hands in the car.

Again he was on time. Again the tiny flicker of a frown that disappeared as soon as Will took note of it.

For that session, he told himself to focus on his therapy. Focus on the words. Lock away the physical and focus on the psychological.

_This time,_ Will told himself, _I will move past my stupid obsession. Keep it professional._

Instead he could not keep his eyes from Hannibal's mouth. He kept his gaze on Hannibal's lips, the flashes of crooked, sharp teeth, clever tongue with incisive words. Half the time he could not follow the doctor's questions, he had been so distracted by that sensual mouth. Hannibal was gracious enough not to mention it.

*****

That night he dreamed of the doctor on his knees with himself in Hannibal's chair, and woke up grinding his hips into the mattress. He had jerked off frantically, mouth and nose pressed to his pillow, and came with a shout that startled the dogs.

He spent the rest of the night doing laundry and cursing himself.

*****

“ _I'd like us to meet before our regular session. Will you be able to make it on Wednesday, 5pm?_ ” said Hannibal over the phone.

Will paused in the middle of the hallway. One of the files nearly fell to the floor when his grip slackened. “Why?”

“ _If it's an inconvenience to you-_ ”

“No! No, I was just... I didn't think you rescheduled. Of course I'm available.”

“ _Thank you for being accommodating. I'm afraid I've been quite silly. I arranged for cleaners to come to my place on Thursday evening – I'd intended Friday but I misread the dates. I don't want to cancel our conversations either._ ”

It was nice to know Hannibal could be fallible. Will chuckled and said, “I'll be there punctually.”

“ _Thank you Will._ ”

*****

As Wednesday approached Will grew irrationally nervous. He should not be this jumpy. But the past few nights he had woken up to sweat-soaked sheets not because of nightmares but of pleasantly sensual dreams, of Hannibal's mouth and hands and eyes.

If the doctor asked him about his sleep, what should Will say? He had been honest with Hannibal so far. He could lie, of course, but somehow he doubted that the older man would believe him. From the very beginning he had been brutally frank with him, and Hannibal would know that Will was concealing something from him.

Nerves prickling under his skin, he waited for the door to open. This time he had not jerked off before the session – he had not had time, because the lesson had run late, and he had been accosted by a colleague asking for assistance in a paper.

Heat grew in his gut on seeing Hannibal at the door. The doctor was in a sky blue suit and pale gold tie. He looked like he belonged in a painting.

Hannibal's sniff as Will passed him was not discreet at all.

“You're smelling me again,” Will pointed out with a small smile. It didn't irk him as it had done before.

“You don't smell like you have done the last few sessions,” Hannibal replied smoothly.

Will shrugged. “I threw out the aftershave. Didn't think you'd welcome me coming here after that comment.”

“You're welcome to come in here any time, Will.”

Will was about to riposte, when the doctor's insinuation struck him. He swallowed thickly. “I don't understand.”

Hannibal tilted his head and sat down in his chair. Instead of crossing his legs the way he usually did, he leaned back and cross his ankles. “Yes you do. I have an _excellent_ sense of smell.”

_Oh shit._ Will could feel the dull flush creep up the back of his neck and heat up his ears. He shook his head and went to the door. “I shouldn't be-”

“If I were uncomfortable with it, I would have let you known directly,” said Hannibal before Will could leave. “Please, Will, sit down.”

Will shut the door and leaned his forehead against it. His face was hot and his eyes stung with humiliated embarrassment and resentment. Words failed him as he sought for some way to confess his fury at being unable to keep the relationship what it was supposed to be.

He sensed the doctor's quiet and solid presence behind him. “Will?”

“You're my doctor,” Will gasped. “You're my doctor and I-”

Hannibal's fingers took his limp hand and touched his lips to Will's fingertips. “Relationships change because boundaries move.”

“I never intended for this boundary to move,” muttered Will rebelliously.

“Yet moved it has,” said Hannibal. He brushed the heel of his thumb over Will's cheek. “Why deny the truth of it?”

Will half-sobbed, half-laughed. “You're my doctor, Hannibal,” he repeated.

“Not officially.”

“You're going to risk your license?”

Hannibal's smile was very tender. “I can always refer you to someone else, someone I trust who will care for you.”

The younger man rested his head on the door and sagged. “I was hoping you could care for me.”

“I do,” said Hannibal. “Very much.”

The kiss was soft. Will noted that Hannibal kept his eyes open until their mouths opened, and then the kiss deepened into something hungry and nearly feral. Will reached blindly for the doorknob and locked it.

For the rest of the session, Will did a tour of the office. They started at the door, then they nearly tripped as they headed to the couch, and then Hannibal backed him into the table, and Will ended up in Hannibal's chair.

To his delight, Hannibal looked as beautiful on his knees as Will had imagined.


End file.
